


Letting Go

by lovelylittleavocado



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, I haven't finished writing this yet so I'll be the first to admit I have no clue where its going, angst ridden fic, everything's cool, if you like that good old fashioned angst then boy do I have some good news for you, mari what have you done, not really but :), so stay along for this wild ride!!!!, they're adults in this so it's cool, you done messed up thats what
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:31:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9557273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelylittleavocado/pseuds/lovelylittleavocado
Summary: It's been three years since he's left. Three years since everything that seemed to make her life worth living disappeared for good. Marinette wanted so desperately, more than anything in the world, to change what happened that day. If she could go back in time she would, but would he ever believe her? Would anything ever feel the same again? No, probably not. How could it after what she had done.





	1. When It Rains

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress that I'm trying to crack out to flex my writing muscles (which haven't been used in a long while). Thank you for taking the time to read this!!! I'm trying to post updates regularly, so stick around for a cool angsty ride B)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn nothing but pain.

She could hear the rain, the roaring made by the collective force of drops on her rooftop, their faint echoes lingering in the chimney. As she sat on the floor, her back pressed against the sofa, she made note of the occasional rumbles of thunder. They were distant drums that begged for her attention, and she couldn’t help but cave in to their wishes. As her eyes shifted to the wide sliding glass door of her living room she tried to let the outside world set the interior of her mind at ease.

The rain danced in the street, with the reflected lights of street lamps caught in its arms. It was enchanting until a lightning strike disrupted the waltz. The power in the apartment wavered between staying on and shutting off for the night, deciding that under the stress of the weather it would choose the latter. This was the last thing she needed. As she searched for her emergency candles she remembered that they were gone. She had given them to her elderly neighbor a few days ago. Or was it weeks? The looming silence of her empty apartment mixed with the darkness began to press in on her, so she retreated to her place on the floor, marked by the now too bright glow of her laptop. Her small cat had taken notice of the situation, and after a yawn and a long stretch he made his way from atop the couch onto the floor next to his keeper.

She glanced out at the world again, watching its surface become slick and submerged. She focused on the splatters of water rolling slowly down the glass, the increasing volume of bellowing thunder, and most of all the lighting that darted through the sky. Each strike illuminated several dark clouds which were themselves racing toward a new destination. Somewhere far away from her. The way everything seemed to travel these days.

The rain wasn’t gentle. She didn’t feel it aimed to nourish the soil, rather to wash it all away. To erase any traces of life there may have been in the once dry summer dirt. She could no longer see the rain in the pitched night, but it’s muted sounds through the glass door were a reminder that it was still there. Waiting to be acknowledged once again. Ready to tear her apart.

Marinette didn’t want to be enveloped in the misery the rain had to offer. She didn’t want to be washed away. But then again, when had anything she wanted mattered?

It had been three years since he had left, time always a reminder of what had been lost. In the beginning there were phone calls, and despite how hard it was on both of them she still appreciated the effort those small gestures took. She appreciated hearing his voice, despite the pain laced in every word. She had wanted to stay in touch with him, even acted as if he was simply on vacation. As if he would be back within the next week. So they talked every day. Then it was every week, his vacation becoming extended, and him becoming accustomed to being away. Soon the calls came months apart, their conversations short and aimless.

_Are you having a good time?_

_Sure I am._

_Well… what did you have for dinner? I bet it was amazing._

_It was alright._

_Adrien, I… when are you coming home?_

Click.

She had tried to call back after that. The phone would ring, but there was never an answer. There never would be an answer. There was no more vacation. He was gone. She had felt so alone. She still felt so alone.

Marinette fought off the tears that were brimming on the edge of her eyes now, eventually unable to prevent them from spilling over. They ran down her cheeks and soon everything began to blur.

Her eyes, blurry with pent up tears of the past.

Her mind, blurry with the pain that accompanied thinking of him.

Her heart, blurry with guilt that she hadn’t fought harder. Hadn’t protected him like he had her for all those years.

More than anything there was regret, but that wasn’t blurry at all. The regret residing within her was a sharp knife that tore apart anything it could lay it’s hands on.

Marinette clenched a fist over her chest and let out a sob, her cat rubbing against her side in an attempt to comfort her. She grabbed him and buried her face in the soft fur. She wanted to go back. She begged to go back. She was begging for a miracle that couldn’t happen.

That night she fell asleep crying, the rain having succeeded in submerging her under waves of mistakes. She knew deep down that she couldn’t edit the past, that it was a book already published in time, but that didn’t matter. It haunted her, and no matter her best efforts to escape it, the past would always find her.

* * *

 

The first year really was the hardest. She had to adjust to life without him. When searching the cupboards for something to lump into a dinner she would find herself calling out to him, asking what he felt like eating. Or she would be at the grocery store, picking up a deodorant for herself and casually picking up one for him too, only to remember. Those were the moments that left her empty.

The second year passed with fewer incidents. She had adopted her cat Louis, and found him to be a comfort on many of her worst nights. He was a small thing, jet black and fluffy to no end, with blue eyes beaming out from under all that fur. He would curl up on the foot of her bed and remind her that she wasn’t alone. That maybe life didn’t have to feel so empty after all.

In the third year Marinette tucked away her pictures of Adrien, save for one that never left her bookshelf. It was easier now, to forget. Her life carried on as if nothing had ever happened. She went out to lunch with her parents. Watched movies with Alya and Nino. Had coffee with Chloe. Everyone was kind to her, kinder than she felt she deserved, and no one mentioned him anymore. But as she was reminded on that stormy summer night, he would never leave her. Not really. And when he surfaced it was as if she was back in square one. Missing him, hating herself, and wanting everything to disappear while simultaneously wanting it to all return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mari I'm sorry but what did u do?


	2. It Pours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego??? I mean Adrien Agreste??? Where in the world is Adrien Agreste???

At the age of 25 life seems to stick to that old saying, the one about a road diverging into two paths. The only problem is, how do you know which path you’re meant to choose? This was the problem Adrien faced as he re-read the latest email in his inbox.

_Dear Mr. Agreste, we regret to inform you that the current CEO of Gabriel Fashions has chosen to resign, leaving the company in your hands. Please call me as this is an urgent matter …_

He didn’t need to read any further.

As he sat, balled up on the couch in his dreary Tokyo flat, he knew that he had come to a crossroads. His eyes darted to the window, searching the gentle rain and stagnant grey clouds for answers. But, just as it often happened, looking toward the outside world only left a soft pain rippling across his heart like waves in a pool. Today the world taunted him with memories of muscles straining to go faster, rain splattering his face as he chased… he chased… It didn’t matter. Not now. Adrien closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose, opening his eyes with an exhale. He couldn’t get lost in the past when the future was calling for his response. He had to think this out. He had to be rational.

If he decided to name a new CEO he could stay away. He knew there were probably loads of capable hands within the company ready to steer the ship. And it wouldn’t take long to find a suitable replacement, anyone in their right mind would jump at the opportunity to oversee such a prestigious company. Yeah, he could keep traveling, go back to Berlin, New York, anywhere. Freedom was his to take a hold of. He didn’t ever have to forget the feeling of escape mingled with deep breaths and new sights. He didn’t ever have to go home.

The thought caught him off guard. Home.

Was that really what he wanted? He never planned to be gone for so long, to evaporate out of the lives of everyone he cared about, but that’s how it all played out.

He had left under the cover of the night, just like she had.

Adrien’s head began to throb, his vision beginning to narrow with the sudden onset of flaring rage and unsettling anxiety. They had both run off to find something they couldn’t have in Paris. They both found themselves longing for endless possibilities the world had to offer. Both hating his father. Both feeling betrayed. The only difference was that she never came back. He had missed her every single day as a child and she never came back, she never even called. Had she ever once thought of him!?

He didn’t have to become her. He didn’t have to morph into everything he eventually came to hate.

_No,_ he chided himself, _this isn’t the same. You’re not her. You are not her. Even if she had every reason to leave, you should have been enough for her to stay._ His muddy fog of thoughts began to clear. _What you’ve been through, it’s not like her. You needed to leave. You needed to leave._

Needed.

Was there still the need to be gone? To stay gone?

If only decisions were as easy as a road diverging into two paths, one clearly the better to set out upon. But easy had never been life’s forte, and this choice, no matter how challenging to make, wouldn’t wait on Adrien for forever.

He wanted to stay out of that business. He wanted to stay away. He wanted to not feel like he had lost a part of himself that, no matter where in the world he looked, he couldn’t find. He didn’t want to know, underneath all of the hurt and betrayal, why he couldn’t find it. Why he would never find it in New York or Berlin.

But he did know. Adrien had been running away from the past for too long. The time spent away had given him enough answers to piece himself together, one broken shard at a time, until there was only one small fragment left. And that piece, whether he liked it or not, was somewhere in Paris waiting for him.

* * *

 

He clenched his head in his hands, knuckles white and tears spilling. He kept his eyes traced on the floor, his whole frame shuddering every minute or so. How had everything spiraled out of control so fast? The apartment was black, the world was silent, and everything within him was crumbling like a building under severe stress. The windows shattered. The doors cracked. The foundation somehow pulled right out from underneath the building.

Without thinking Adrien was up and packing a bag, grabbing a few items of clothes, his wallet and passport, and an empty box that once held a ring. He strode into the living room, took a few of his favorite books from the shelf, and hesitated when he reached out for a small picture acting as a bookend. It was him and Mari, only seventeen years old, each one smiling from ear to ear as they looked into the camera. Tikki was balancing on Marinette’s shoulder, Plagg in Adrien’s hair.

Adrien choked back a sob, rubbed his thumb across the glass of the frame with as much delicate care as he could afford, and left the image behind. It was gone. Everything was gone.

Just like that he was out the door, and he wasn’t looking back.

The first year was the worst, without a doubt. Adrien had lost who he was. He had let an instinct drive him away, and for as much as he hated having run he couldn’t help but feel it was the right thing to do. A small seed of hate had been residing within him, and he knew if he stayed at home it would have flourished into something putrid. Something that would turn him into a monster. So he stayed away. He would call her to let her know he was safe. She would fight to keep him on the line. He fought to keep the hurt and fury out of his voice. Neither of them would succeed, and time would chip away at the phone calls until they were merely history.

The second year was alright. He wasn’t in agony and he wasn’t in despair. Really he wasn’t anything. Nothing mattered. The second year was a grey smear in his mind, filled with blank stares and cold showers. Unwelcome memories and nights of screaming at a dream that made him feel and remember what once was.

The third year was almost normal, or what he thought normal should’ve been. Adrien had found a piece of himself somewhere out there, and he turned that discovery into fuel to keep moving. Walking down tree-lined streets with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, taking in any and everything his eyes could pick up. Eating a bowl of hot soup, staring at the interesting faces of strangers he would never know inside the restaurant of that day. He went through life knowing that he wasn’t okay today, but he would be, someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dat boi going home!!!


	3. Submerged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alya is basically Lois Lane - determined, hot, and really cool.

Screams. There were so many, and although she couldn’t make any distinctions, she knew that her voice was contributing to this unwavering chorus. She knew because she could feel her vocal chords straining, the aching pull of muscles, as if the world had been trapped in this singular moment for hours. Why was she screaming? Why were they? Marinette looked down at her hands – red. That was normal, good even. When clad in red she held control. She had the power.

But something was off. This wasn’t right.

The same pull in her throat now seeped throughout her body, like melted lead or a snake’s venom, bringing terror that froze her bones. Marinette felt the lead soaking into her skin, pooling at her feet, tugging her down and down. There was no control. This wasn’t normal. This was Hell. Looking at her hands she found them clad in that same crimson, only now slick and gleaming, and the longer she stared the more a sickening scent of copper flooded her senses. She knew why she was screaming. She knew where she was, and with this realization an ungodly scream ripped from above all others as her lead heart ceased beating.

Marinette’s body jolted forward, tears and sweat mingling on her burning cheeks. A dream.  An all too vivid nightmare. She checked the clock, **5:52 AM.** It was too late to go back to bed, and even if she wanted to Mari doubted it would be possible, red images still searing into her mind. With a sigh of resignation she pulled a slim orange bottle from her nightstand, sliding one of the tart pills into her mouth so that she could face the day. With the passing of time and the aid of doctors the nightmares had stopped visiting under the guise of dreams, or so she had thought. This was the third time this week that Marinette had awoken from a distorted reflection of the past, fear and adrenaline flooding her veins until it was unbearable.

But, she reminded herself, she had been here before. She had seen these things before, and they didn’t have to interrupt her life. Alya had told her time and again that she couldn’t change the past, and that she had done what she had to, none of them could have done it differently. That was nice to hear, but it didn’t change how she felt.

“Speak of the devil” Marinette muttered as her phone began to vibrate, Alya’s name splayed across the screen. “Hey, I was just thinking about you!” She tried to put as much cheery inflection into her voice as possible, not that it would matter much. Alya was a walking lie detector, sniffing out Marinette’s true feelings from a mile away. Bracing to be called out on her bs Marinette held her breathe, but what she had expected didn’t come.

“We need to have lunch today.” Curt. On edge. Distracted. Something was weighing on Alya and Marinette didn’t like it.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen with Chloe or?” Her words trailed off. She knew her question wasn’t the problem, but she still didn’t know what she was fishing for. It was almost like the answer was on the tip of her tongue, but in her thoughts. It was right there, right in her grasp, but she couldn’t get a hold of it.

“No no, we’re fine. Everything’s fine. Well everything’s fine in that department. I, it’s hard to explain. Over the phone at least. Just… can we have lunch today?”

Fear.

Marinette used to be fearless, soaring through the air like a hot knife through butter, challenging those who sought destruction. She had been fearless enough to finally connect the dots all that time ago, leading to the best years of her life. She had been fearless enough to trust her friends with her deepest secrets and finally blend her two halves into a whole. She had been unstoppable. But that part of her had rotted when the floods of pain came, like wood left in a storm. Her courage was filled with unsteady places ready to cave in, gaping holes hiding masses of termites. All that was left was the fear, and it wrapped its hands around her gut, holding her its hostage.

“Sure we can, you know I can’t say no to you. Is 2ish okay?”

“Yeah that’s great. Meet me at our usual place?”

“I’ll be there!” She didn’t want to end their conversation on a somber note, so Marinette threw that same over-sweetened fake enthusiasm in at the last moment.

All it left was a bitter taste in her mouth and a craving for the real thing.

* * *

 

Alya had been upset, certainly, but she hadn’t been thriving through the mantle of hero nearly as long as they had. The two of them had grown into something nobody could have imagined. Well, maybe she could have when she was younger, but still. They were something so unique, so powerful. Apart they were like the sun and the moon, two fantastic beings illuminating the world, but together they weren’t necessarily better, just different. They eclipsed Paris with their strength and their love.

She was a part of the team of course, but she would never be a part of _them._ And she didn’t need to be. She had her own love that flourished under the cover of being a hero, and she loved that, but her relationship didn’t collapse when everything happened. Sure she had lost a friend, more than a friend actually, but that was in the past. She couldn’t change it, and Alya knew that blaming her best friend wouldn’t change it either. But then again, She had only been a hero for four years, which seemed like forever until she compared it to Mari’s eight. She had doubled as Ladybug for a child’s entire lifetime, and to have it gone must have felt like a loss of herself. Her very being, snatched away. She could see it smeared across her friends face. When the team would gather to comfort one another, she would sit balled up. Guarded. Alone. Then of course there was Adrien, rubbing salt into her gaping wounds. How could he just leave her? She didn’t understand, she didn’t think she wanted to understand, but the reporter within her knew better. She had to understand.

Alya spent all of three years trying to track him down. At times it would consist of vigorous research, burning tired eyes, and immeasurable yawns. Other instances, however, she would flip open her laptop and see a pictures of him peppering her newsfeed. In every image he would be wearing sunglasses and a floppy hat, hiding away from the press, trying to meld into the steady stream of a monotonous society. She was sorry for him those times, when he was obviously trying to get away, so unsuccessful in his efforts. Even with as much as she wanted him to come home, if he was determined to stay away she willed that he would be able to do so peacefully.

This morning was one of those days that she found herself catching Adrien Agreste in her news feed, but as she sipped her coffee she almost choked, coughing and hitting her chest as she read over and again the headline that the article in question had published.

“We need to have lunch today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added some tags that are kind of hinted at in this chapter, see if you can catch 'em ;)


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